Review & Excerpt ♥ Dirty Girl by Meghan March

May 17, 2016 Angela Erotica, Excerpts, Reviews

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Review & Excerpt ♥ Dirty Girl by Meghan MarchDirty Girl (Dirty Girl Duet Book 1) by Meghan March
Series: Dirty Girl Duet #1
Published by Red Dress Press on May 17th 2016
Genres: Erotica
Pages: 228
Format: ARC
three-stars

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From USA Today bestselling author Meghan March comes a sexy new spin-off duet from the Dirty Billionaire Trilogy. Are you ready to get dirty again?

Desperately seeking rich, famous, single guy with a giant cock to make my lying, cheating, should’ve-been-born-dickless ex-boyfriend realize what he’s just lost. Oh, and I give great head. Just sayin’.

No man in his right mind would answer that ad.

Except thousands did. My name is Greer Karas, and I should never be allowed near another bottle of booze again. Because when I drink, my friend and I do stupid things. Like take a page out of my older brother Creighton’s playbook and post something completely asinine on the Internet. Waking up with a giant hangover to find my humiliating personal ad has gone viral is not my finest moment.

Cue my look of shock when one of Hollywood’s hottest new bad boys, Cavanaugh Westman, comes knocking at my door and drops his pants to prove that he does indeed have a giant cock. What he doesn’t have is an explanation for why he disappeared from my life without a word three years ago, only to show up on the big screen two years later, killing bad guys in action flicks.

Now he wants me again.

What the hell do I do now?

Dirty Girl is the first book in the Dirty Girl Duet, and Greer and Cav's story will conclude in Dirty Love, releasing 5/31/16.

 

I know from reading Meghan March’s Dirty Billionaire trilogy that the woman writes some seriously scorching erotica. She also creates the most wild and entertaining storylines. Her serials are a bit of a guilty pleasure for me, and Dirty Girl provides the signature escapism I’ve come to expect.

Dirty Girl teaser

This is the story of Greer, who is billionaire Creighton’s younger sister from the Dirty Billionaire series. When Greer’s sexually explicit drunken online post goes viral, it doesn’t just bring out the freaks, it brings back the man that broke her heart. Greer hasn’t seen or heard from Cavanaugh (Cav) since he walked out on her three years ago, and in that time he’s become one of Hollywood’s biggest action heroes. He shows up at her door wanting a relationship with her, but not giving her an explanation for his disappearing act. It’s a really fun setup, but I did have a couple issues with the story.

Cav is dominant, passionate, and protective, and while I love myself a dirty talker, he didn’t fully win me over. He is very insistent about getting Greer to commit to a relationship. Although it’s explained somewhat, I had trouble understanding why he waited for that exact moment to win her back if wanted her so desperately. I’m hoping there’s more to the story that just hasn’t been uncovered yet. It’s probably just a pet peeve of mine, but Cav’s nickname for Greer bothered me. “Baby Girl” is kind of creepy when used between grown lovers in the bedroom.

There are problems related to Creighton’s company that are key to the story but didn’t make sense to me. It seemed like forced conflict to help propel a rather stagnant plot. Fortunately, the beginning and end are super strong and make this smoking hot romance worth the read.

The flashbacks, the scenes in Belize, and the ultra-steamy sexy times are all very enjoyable, and despite my misgivings about Cav there’s no denying the amazing chemistry between him and Greer.

The reason for Cav’s disappearance is a big mystery as is the secret he’s hiding. I was already judging the ending as being predictable before I even got there (since I’m a Judgey McJudgerson). I was so sure I knew what was going to happen. Wrong. I did not see that plot twist coming! Meghan March hits the ending out of the park and then leaves you hanging. I have absolutely no idea where the story is headed, but I can’t wait to find out!

Recommended for fans of:
Bad boys
Rags to riches
Erotica

**ARC received in exchange for an honest review.**

Excerpt
Greer
No. Fucking. Way.
Can you photoshop real life? Because that’s the only way I can possibly be seeing through my peephole what I’m seeing right now.
Cavanaugh Westman. In the flesh. Outside my door.
The knock stopped me mid-shuffle on the way to my coffeemaker. So that makes me an uncaffeinated, makeup-less, messy-bunned, legging-wearing couch surfer who hasn’t showered in the two days I’ve spent holed up in my apartment.
He can’t see me like this.
I’ve had so many fantasies of how it will go when I finally came face-to-face with Cav again. I’ll be wearing something sexy, yet classy. Perfect hair, makeup, eyebrows. I’ll adopt a casually disinterested mien. He’ll be devastated when he realizes what he missed out on by standing me up that night and disappearing without a word.
There’s no way in hell I’m answering that door. Cav Westman can sit out in my hallway all day. Not opening it.
But Cav reads my mind, the bastard.
“Open the door, baby girl. Your message came through loud and clear with that ad.”
A barely audible gasp escapes my lungs.
“That’s right, I know you’re standing there. So, open the door, Greer.”
His deep, gravelly voice stirs memories I thought I wiped out of my brain. Apparently not.
I rush to the couch to grab my phone. I need to text Banner. Need to freak out with her and schedule an emergency spa day so I can be all the things I need to be before facing him again.
My thoughts come to a screeching halt. I do not need to impress Cav Westman. He’s nothing to me. And I can prove it right now by opening the door. He’ll see exactly how much I don’t care about his opinion.
Before I can change my mind, or look down at my shirt to make sure I’m not sporting any stains from yesterday’s coffee, I reach for the dead bolts and unlock them before I twist the doorknob and tug.
As soon as the door is open, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake.
Through the peephole, he was marginally distorted. On the billboards and movie posters plastered to the sides of buses in the city, he looked like a total stranger. But Cav in the flesh?
Devastating.
I lose my grip on the door and it swings open.
How does he not look older? No new lines bracket his mouth or crease the corners of his eyes. Instead, a new scar curves along his jaw, giving him a sexier, more dangerous look. His shoulders are impossibly broader, making his hips seem even narrower.
His hazel eyes flash as he takes me in—at least they haven’t changed. Today they’re more tawny gold than gray or green. Guessing what color they would be was part of the game I played with myself before. His dark brown hair is sexy and disheveled, longer than the buzz cut he had before, but everything else is the same. Worn jeans, a plain T-shirt, and scuffed boots. Strong, bold features that many a man would find impossible to carry off, but are the reason millions of women would line up to have Cavanaugh Westman’s babies.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, reminding myself that I no longer have some naive fantasy of being the one for Cav.
His gaze returns to my face, and I know his inspection of me can’t be nearly as flattering as mine of him.
I’m waiting for him to say something . . . anything. Like an apology or an explanation for disappearing three years ago, but instead I get something completely different.
His hands drop to the button of his jeans. “Based on your ad, the inspection isn’t quite complete.”
If my jaw could drop to the floor like a cartoon character’s, it would.
Oh. My. God. I never saw what he was packing before, only a grazing handful the one night I finally got bold, but he put me off, promising me a night that never happened.
I stand like a slack-jawed moron and force my gaze to his face.
“What are you doing?”
His wicked grin—one he uses so rarely, even in the movies of his I’ll never admit I’ve seen—wipes away the three years between our past and present.
The hiss of the zipper comes next.
I keep my gaze on his face as his eyes dare me. To look or to stop him, I’m not sure which.
“Apparently you’ve changed your requirements for wooing, baby girl.”
The endearment on his lips brings back another wave of memories, but the flex of his bicep against the sleeve of his T-shirt steals my attention.
Oh. My. God.
He’s gripping his cock, stroking it, isn’t he? All I have to do is look down, and I’ll have more than one question answered.
“You know you wanna look.”
The dare is there again. And he’s right. I want to look. So I do.
Sweet Jesus.
Oh. My. Hell.
Well, let’s just say Cav knocked that requirement out of the park. The sight of his long, thick cock in his big, capable hand sends heat rushing south through my body, pooling between my thighs. My nipples, sans bra, strain against the material of my shirt. Cav’s gaze drops as well—to my chest.
The room pulses with a desperate intensity. Hanging between us is the night we never had. The one he walked away from.
I have two choices. Take what I want, what I asked for, or hold on to the rejection he dealt me three years ago.
My brain short-circuits on one thought—life is short, and you never know if you’ll get a second chance.
So I step forward, wrap one hand around his neck and the other around his cock, and kiss him for everything I’m worth.
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three-stars

About Meghan March

Meghan March

Meghan March is the author of contemporary and erotic romance novels.

Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.



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